The smoke slowly rose up the chimney
As we sat around in the bar
Except for the mug
Who was stuck in the snug
Alone with his pint and guitar
He tried to retune it to DADGAD
Though he wasn't having much luck
Cos the beer from the tap
Ended up in his lap
And that's why Keith's long-johns were drying in front of the fire in the Plucky Duck

The barmaid was really quite lovely
And always so quick with a smile
She brought beer in mugs
But the size of her jugs
Was what made Keith hang round for a while
He could not wrest his eyes from her bosom
The sight of which he'd never tire
He'd not leave for his tea
Nor when he had to pee
And that's why Keith's long-johns were drying again in front of the Plucky Duck fire

The landlord cried "god dammit, blood and thunder
Have you seen what Mr Chesterton wears under (all his other clothes)
The atmosphere's been marred
By his long-johns getting charred
Is it the singing or the singeing that's put people off, I wonder"

He's not the most modern of people
And long-johns have long been his choice
With a flap at the back
For when he needs a cack
They're a reason for him to rejoice
But he couldn't cope with the derision
The ribbing he took from his friends
So he now grits his teeth
And wears boxers and briefs
And the long-johns are placed on the fire to burn slowly and that means this story must end